


It's a Love Story, Baby

by TheOtherOdinson



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fighter Loki, Gen, Memory Loss, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:50:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherOdinson/pseuds/TheOtherOdinson
Summary: The Grandmaster has a new champion. Sakaar ships it.





	It's a Love Story, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to catch up on my cross-posting from my blog. This story first appeared [here](http://theotherodinson.tumblr.com/post/167789743704/there-has-been-a-lot-of-petloki-but-how-about) and was in answer to a prompt for an amnesiac Contender Loki who quickly becomes a star, the Grandmaster is enchanted, and Sakaar ships it.

Silar rushed to take his seat. He waved at those he knew, but didn’t stop until he plonked down upon the cushioned surface.

“Thought you were going to be late,” his friend, Brao, greeted him.

“Not tonight. Not when our champion is fighting.” So what if he had to hurry a few lingering customers out the door of his shop. Arriving to the games on time when the champion was making an appearance was more than worth earning their displeasure.

Brao already had his sign imprinted with the champion’s likeness held aloft and waving. Silar was quick to hoist his own sign in the air.

They were not alone.

Sakaar’s arena held an air of anticipation as throngs of people jammed into the stands. Yelling and laughing and cheering, many holding up signs and dolls and other trinkets paying homage to their favourites. Most were for Sakaar’s reigning champion.

These were exciting times for Sakaar. Their champion was a wonder. A rather unimpressive, unassuming specimen at first glance. Silar was present when the champion first made his appearance. He was always quick to tell people so, not that they believed him.

The Grandmaster’s image had appeared in the centre of the arena to announce him that first wondrous night. “A treat, a treat, my friends! This scrappy newcomer who comes to us from who knows where? Maybe he knows, but he’s not saying. Won’t tell me a name either. I guess we’ll just call him Nameless for now, huh?”

The crowd had laughed, sensing soon to be spilled fresh blood.

“A pretty thing, fell right into my lap. Well, not my lap personally. Not that I would have complained if he had.” More laughter, cheers. “Judge for yourselves, Sakaarans. For here he is. Say hello to - Nameless!”

Nameless was an ordinary man. Nice to look at perhaps, but not remarkable. Pale skin, dark hair. Encased in dark leathers from neck to toe, decorated with gold plating of some kind. He was no lumbering giant. Had no weapons for hands, just a pair of daggers. Uninteresting. The crowd had jeered, ready to see him scream.

And then the first opponent was sent in. Then the next. And the next.

By evening’s end, all the contenders lay dead at the feet of Nameless. Who could move almost faster than one could see. Could be in one place one moment, yet the other side of the arena the next. Who you could be looking right at, but then see dozens bearing his likeness all around the arena floor and not know which one was real. One opponent got close enough to lay hands upon him, and Nameless made him scream with a touch to his head before snapping his neck.

A great hush fell over the arena. An air of disbelief as so many of their favourites lay dead. Including the reigning champion. Then an eruption. Thousands of Sakaarans on their feet, cheering, screaming, throwing tributes.

 _Nameless, Nameless, Nameless,_ came the steadily growing roar.

Nameless had looked around him calmly before taking a bow.

The crowd shrieked louder. Brao swore his hearing was damaged that day. Silar did not think he was telling the truth about being present.

When the Grandmaster stood in his overlooking suite, all went quiet. Nameless took note of the crowd’s focus, turning to Sakaar’s leader and bowing his head. The Grandmaster took him in with a smile.

“Well, it would appear someone was underestimated. I do love surprises, almost as much as I love rewarding them. I grant you a favour for your impressive performance. And your survival. What can I give you?”

Nameless looked around him, taking in his victims, his audience. His new master. He licked his lips before responding, taking his time. “A name would be nice,” he said.

A name the Grandmaster gave him.

“A name? Hmm, let’s see. You’re very quick. Deadly. Sneaky. Lovely, too, there’s that. Let’s see. A name, a name.”

The Grandmaster held his hands together by way of the tips of his fingers as he thought. Silar and all those around him leaned forward in their seats.

“A name. A name. Shadow Blade? No. Cutting Edge? Quick Toes? No, no. How do people who procreate do this? Oh, wait! I know!” The Grandmaster clapped his hands together in delight. “You shall be known as - Ripper! ‘Cause of the way he rips through his opponents. Sometimes literally. Pretty good, huh?” He looked around him expectantly as his companions all applauded before looking back out into the arena.

Nameless, now Ripper, accepted his name with a smile and another bow.

The Grandmaster beamed.

Silar was eager to attend the next games to feature Ripper. They turned out to be as breathtaking as his first. As did the next. And the next. And the next after that. So went every spellbinding performance of Sakaar’s champion who moved like the wind with deadly results and clever taunts for his opponents. Always with a majestic bow to the crowds at the end. Sakaar loved him. And so did - they suspected - the Grandmaster.

At the end of every fight, Ripper took his bows until the Grandmaster stood to get his attention. He waited for Ripper’s graceful incline of his head before smiling widely and granting a favour. As time went on, Silar began to suspect half the people in attendance were only there to find out what Ripper would ask for next.

They were sometimes simple requests. A nice drink. A lavish meal. A new outfit to wear. Or a pair of boots. Occasionally Ripper would say, “The Grandmaster is as always gracious in his favours. But I feel greedy taking them all for myself when you already ensure I want for so little. Something for the people perhaps?” With a smile and a gesture to encompass the crowds watching them with breathless anticipation.

The first time he did it, the Grandmaster seemed startled before blurting he would give everyone in the arena currency. That brought a resounding roar of approval that won a smile from both the Grandmaster and Ripper. Over time, it became something of a game between the two of them. Ripper asking for his favour from the Grandmaster be given to Sakaar’s people. The Grandmaster taking his time to think of something different with each request.

Sadly, the one night Silar missed the games was the night the Grandmaster gave everyone in attendance an airship.

Then came the time Ripper asked if he might be allowed to watch the games himself. At the Grandmaster’s side. The Sakaarans nearly lost their minds, showering their champion in trinkets and flowers. When the noise died down, with a golden flower edged in green stuck in his raven hair, the Grandmaster granted Ripper’s request.

There were so many people in attendance at the next games, it was standing room only in the stands. Silar could hardly breath for excitement. Though admittedly that could have been due to the crush of people. Some who could not secure entry to the arena were paying others to take them up over the arena in their ships in hopes they could catch a glimpse from above.

Silar couldn’t remember who fought that night, much less who won. Like everyone around him, he was transfixed on the Grandmaster’s viewing room. 

Watching Ripper arrive in the Grandmaster’s company, decked out in stunning outfit of blues and purple, his hair falling to his shoulders in curls and styled away from his face. He was even wearing a cape! Never had Silar thought watching two people sitting on opposite ends of the same couch could be so fascinating. No one could hear a word Ripper and the Grandmaster said to each other from within the private suite, but still could not look away. The arena could have been on fire and Silar would not have moved from his place, lest he missed anything.

And when the fighting was over, the Grandmaster held out his hand to Ripper. Ripper didn’t hesitate to place his hand in the Grandmaster’s and let himself be led out of the viewing room.

Wagering on outcomes was always popular among Sakaarans. Though once Ripper arrived among them, there was little point. But after that night a new form of wager began circulating.

How long before Ripper took his leave of the arena floor to take his new place at the Grandmaster’s side?

Silar was betting tonight was the night. It was a long shot. Brao said he was a fool. The odds on favourite was six fights from now. But Silar had hope Ripper would surprise them all. For at the end of Ripper’s next fight after sitting with the Grandmaster - and every fight since - when the Grandmaster stood and asked what favour he could grant, Ripper gave the same reply accompanied with a smile.

“I will accept whatever gift my lord deems fit to give me.”

Brao swore the Grandmaster eyes glittered at this. Silar did not believe he was close enough to see any such thing.

Rumour had it there was fresh blood among the contenders tonight. Silar heard one of the scrappers brought him in. The new ones were always a risk. One didn’t know what to expect. If they died quickly, they left everyone unsatisfied. If they fought well enough to survive, if not unmaimed, they could make for an exciting fight. Silar was hoping for the latter. If this new contender gave Ripper enough of a fight, he might be emboldened enough to ask for the Grandmaster’s ultimate favour.

And Silar just might win his wager.

He and Brao chatted for a few minutes, with each other and each others neighbours. Silar discovered he was the only who believed tonight was the night. But still he had hope.

The giant image of the Grandmaster appeared in the centre of the arena. Everyone cheered.

“Well, my loyal Sakaarans, have I a fresh and yummy treat for you! There’s a new contender in town. And wow does he think highly of himself, let me tell you. But let’s see if he can fight. Bring out the Lord of Thunder!”

A gate on one side of the arena opened to admit a man. He moved slowly, taking his time as he made his way into the arena.

“He doesn’t look very impressive,” Brao complained.

“Neither did Ripper at first. Just wait,” Silar said.

In response, Brao waved his sign with greater enthusiasm. “We want Ripper!” he yelled.

All around him, others took up the call. Silar joined in.

“Ripper, Ripper, Ripper!”

The Grandmaster’s image laughed. “Yes, yes! I hear you. Let’s not put this off any long. Sakaar, I give you your champion. Let’s hear it for Ripper!”

The image faded away as the Grandmaster took his seat in his viewing room. The crowd screamed in anticipation. The new contender glanced around warily until he spied another door opening, and he fell into a fighting stance.

Ripper stepped out onto the arena floor. The noise increased tenfold.

“Ripper! Ripper! Ripper!”

Ripper turned on his heel in a slow circle, arms spread wide and smiling as he took in the crowds. He stopped when the Grandmaster’s viewing suite came into view. Another smile. Ripper sauntered forward, daggers held loosely in his hands to face his opponent.

Whose arms has dropped to his sides as he stared at the other man’s approach. The Thunder Lord spoke, a single word from his lips that was heard even in the seats furthest from the arena floor.

“Loki?”

Ripper’s steps faltered.

Thunder Lord’s steps did not. He took several forward, very quickly. “Loki? Loki!” Another handful of steps and the new contender was close enough to Ripper to touch. The Thunder Lord’s weapons hit the ground as he grabbed Ripper’s shoulders.

Silar was on his feet. Brao right beside him.

“What are you doing? Stab him!” Brao cried.

“He will,” Silar said. “It’s a trick. Just wait.”

But Ripper didn’t move. He stood there, staring at the Thunder Lord. Who gave him a gentle shake. “Loki, it’s me! Thor.”

The Grandmaster was on his feet now. Across the arena people rose for a better look. Whispered to one another. Wondered what was wrong with their champion. Some booed. Many yelled encouragement.

“Get him, Ripper!”

“Fight!”

“Rip him! Rip him!”

The crowd took up the chant, “Rip him, rip him,” echoing through the air. Ripper stirred and struck without warning, plunging one of his daggers into his handsy opponent’s gut. The crowd roared at the first blood spilled. Silar waved his sign harder. Their champion would not fail them.

The new contender staggered away, hand clutched over his fresh wound. He looked at Ripper strangely, like he hadn’t expected the hurt.

“Brother, what is wrong with you?”

Ripper slashed at him again. And again.

“Why are you doing this? What have they done to you?”

The Grandmaster stood frozen in his viewing room. He looked as bewildered as Silar felt.

Ripper fought with none of his usual grace. His steps were off. His movements jerky. When he did his trick of making himself into many, his opponent knew somehow which one was the real Ripper.

Through it all, the Thunder Lord kept talking.

“Loki, I know not what is wrong. But it’s all right. I’ll help you. And then we’ll go home, you and I. Together. Asgard is in danger and needs us both.”

Ripper made none of his usual taunts. He growled and snarled as he stabbed at his opponent. The crowd kept up their yells, demanding their champion go for the kill. Mood turning unsteady throughout the arena. They wanted this fight ended.

Apparently so did the Thunder Lord.

For several heart-pounding moments the two combatants fought full-out. Neither gaining the upper hand. Ripper getting clumsier as he moved. His opponent seemingly trying not to harm him. Talking all the while. Ripper’s movements growing sloppier the more words were said.

Then, just as Ripper rushed his opponent, knocking him to the ground and raising one of his daggers high, there was a burst of lightning that blinded them all.

Minutes later, when Silar finally blinked the multicoloured daze from his eyes, he could see Ripper and Thunder Lord both on their backs in the dirt. Brao nudged him and pointed. Silar followed his direction and saw the Grandmaster staring down at his fighters, a small device in his hand.

He looked angry.

And Silar knew he’d lost his wager.

 

_end._


End file.
